Nephilim. Mary Ann Loesch

      Sixth Street still bustled at one in the morning. The clubs overflowed with people whose smiles were tinged with alcohol and merriment. Though the bars would shut down in an hour, music pounded the air as each establishment competed with the other to bring in the clientele. Sidewalk carts worked overtime to keep up with the demand for bratwurst on a stick and the sweet joy of fried dough covered in powered sugar. Flat-chested girls in hemp tank tops, the scent of patchouli clinging to their bodies, cranked out homemade jewelry and reveled in the un-hippy smell of profit. Less innocent pleasures were available nearby, all one needed was to know where to look.

      Some thought Las Vegas had cornered the market on the seven deadly sins, but as Faye walked along Sixth Street, she knew it wasn’t so. Austin, Texas could give Vegas a run for its money any day. Oh sure, things were definitely bad in Sin City, but it wasn’t caused by demons or the devil. That was always such a hard concept for believers to grasp. There were no demons or devils. Just angels who manipulated the odds and influenced free will. And that was really the key. In Vegas, free will was easily swayed. The sins of envy, gluttony, lust, sloth, greed, wrath and pride were always on display. Texans were still a little more modest, but that didn’t make them any less vulnerable.

      Several tattoo shops catered to the drunken masses in downtown Austin, and Faye wondered which belonged to Nathan Ink. What had Azal called it again? Hell’s Leak.

      The old familiar resentment reared up within her at the thought of him. She hadn’t seen Azal in seven years, though he’d tried to make contact with her on more than one occasion. He’d never gone so far as to drop in on her before, preferring to throw simple signs in her path designed to express his presence. Faye ignored them. For a while he had cajoled and pleaded with her in her dreams until she’d performed a ritual to block him. Once, in an almost charmingly human approach, he’d sent candy and flowers. She’d tossed them in the trash. As if such trifles could soothe or win her over. Please. The angels and their Almighty leader had blown any chance of her help long ago.

       So why am I looking for this Nathan Ink?

      The rush of IH 35 traffic a few blocks away made her think longingly of her own car parked beneath the overpass. She wished she was safely in it, driving home to her apartment. Just the thought of the little room located above her plant nursery caused Faye’s frustration at Azal to grow. If it weren’t for him, she’d be there right now, not trudging around Sixth Street looking for some damn rogue angel.

      Faye stopped. Though she knew to be wary of this part of the street, which had less foot traffic and more potential for danger, she closed her eyes, pressing a hand to her forehead where a tiny pain formed. She rubbed at the spot, but the pain grew, and with it came a sound, small at first, then gradually growing into a buzz.

      Here we go, she thought. Time to pierce the veil.

      Faye opened her eyes. She stood next to a dark and empty shop, just one of many on the east end of Sixth Street that took up the lower half of a two-story building. But something changed in the air. A shape shimmered next to her, caught between the veil of this dimension and the next. She blinked her eyes, letting her hand drop away from her forehead, and willed herself to relax.

      “C’mon then. Show yourself.”

      Faye opened her senses, the pain in her head overwhelming her as it always did when she first looked beyond.

      Stay calm, breathe, she reminded herself. This is all part of the process of seeing what others can’t.

      After a moment, the shimmering shape next to her solidified, and the pain lessened as a shop came into view. Light poured from the windows, illuminating the sidewalk that only moments ago had been dark. A red neon sign hung outside the door blinking the words Hell’s Leak.

       So it was not for everyone to see.

      The only customer Faye could see inside the shop was a young man with brown hair. He sat motionless in a red chair, a light smile on his lips and a dreamy detached glow in his eyes. His black and green boxer shorts were shoved up his thigh as a woman with milky brown skin rested a hand on his shoulder. Her eyes were shut and a serene smile played on her lips. In her other hand the woman held a brown leather book, which she pressed to her chest. Faye could clearly make out the word emblazoned in dark red on the cover.

       Sinz.

      Another man leaned over the customer’s naked thigh. His long black hair fell forward as the tattoo gun in his hand emitted the loud buzz she’d heard earlier.

      “Nathan Ink,” she said out loud. “In the flesh.”

      Faye glanced at the shop’s walls, which were covered with the same familiar symbols and designs she had seen on the walls of numerous other tattoo shops. Flaming skeleton heads adorned one area, along with variations of sexy succubae and devils. Anchors, flowers, tiny Mickey Mouses, Celtic symbols–it was all there. Her gaze swept across the work area where two stations were set up with the young man occupying one. Black and white tiled floors shone under the fluorescent lights, and Faye figured the inside smelled like a mix of rubbing alcohol and Pine Sol.

      Nathan Ink put the tattoo gun down. She couldn’t hear their conversation, but she could tell he had finished the design when he rubbed salve across the tender skin. Faye stood on her tiptoes and tried to get a peek at the tattoo. No luck. Nathan covered it with a loose bandage, and the young man pulled up his jeans, looking dazed. The woman smiled, took his offered card and ran it through the credit card machine. A few moments later, he left the shop, bumping into Faye as he passed.

      Curt. His name spilled from his mind with ease when he brushed her shoulder. Self-conscious, he straightened his blue flannel shirt and moved away, leaving a sweet scent behind that reminded her of being in a bakery.

      “Nice cologne. Not very masculine, though,” she muttered and debated whether or not to follow him.

      Faye looked back at the shop. The woman was busy cleaning up, but Nathan stood at the window staring at her. He tilted his head to the side, and a little prickle of heat ran up the back of her neck. He tried to get inside her head.

      She smiled, shook her finger at Nathan and then followed the young man, wondering which of the deadly sins he would fall prey to.

      Curt meandered up Sixth Street, his gait unsteady. She couldn’t decide if he was drunk, or if it was the pain from the tattoo. Deciding to pull Azal’s trick, Faye opened her mind.

      Damn thing stings. What was I thinking? The thread of his thoughts were sluggish, slurred.

      She almost lost him in a throng of laughing young women celebrating a bachelorette party, but his thoughts floated easily in the air above the garish, heavily made up faces of the women, and she was able to hang on.

      Bitches. Fucking bride. Probably looking to get laid one last time. Maybe I should help her out. Bet that faggot from earlier wouldn’t make fun of me now. Got a real cupcake tattoo tonight. Faye pushed through the girls, smiling and congratulating the bride who swayed on her feet. With a push of the mind, Faye suggested to a bridesmaid it was time to take the future bride home. As the bridesmaid sang her new idea to the bridal party, Faye picked up the thread of Curt’s thoughts once more.

       Hope this tattoo helps me get laid. She’s a fucking beauty. Proves I’m not a damn queer.

      She